


Kitchen Disasters

by Plus1STR



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Cartinelli - Freeform, F/F, Femslash, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plus1STR/pseuds/Plus1STR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy attempts to bake a cake for Angie's birthday, but it goes horribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitchen Disasters

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [Desastres na Cozinha](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582671) by [Rosetta (Melime)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/pseuds/Rosetta)



“Damn it!"

That was the third time Peggy tried to whip up Jarvis’ recipe for a god-forsaken cake and failed miserable. The first one had a suspiciously clumpy consistency before it reached the oven. When Peggy had taken it out and cut into it, she discovered the lumps were filled with uncooked cake batter. The second cake ended up being so sticky that it could have been used as a substitute for glue. Peggy’s third and finally attempt went up in flames— literally. The kitchen filled with smoke as soon as Peggy opened the oven and, in a fit on anger, Peggy dropped the tin into the sink. Cooking wasn't her forte; Peggy spent so much time at the SSR and going over paper work and old files that she never had the time to learn. But she figure if she could complete a mission that required a minimum of three agents by herself, how hard could baking a cake be? Angie had always made it seem so effortless.

The walls and secrets Peggy built to keep Angie out of harm’s way were torn down all together in one large gesture on Peggy’s part. Settling into Howard’s house with Angie opened new avenues for the two; they had learned more about each other in a matter of weeks than they had in the months they’d been neighbours at the Griffith. At first it was little things; Peggy’s favourite food, Angie's favourite colour, just how awful Peggy’s singing really was. And those little things developed into much larger milestones, like what sort of trouble Angie could get herself into while sleepwalking or when the other’s birthday was. It was the latter that led to Peggy’s disastrous attempt at baking.

Angie was closing at the auto-mat, so Peggy utilized her whole day to come up with something; she just hadn't expected to be so terrible at cooking. The cake wasn't her first idea or try; there was an attempt at pasta that ended up being a sticky clump of wheat, potatoes hard enough to render a man unconscious if used as a projectile, and a tray of very dry, very burnt salmon. Eventually, Peggy had given up on cooking stove top and snagged a step-by-step cake recipe from Jarvis, but even with the broken down instructions, it had ended in disaster. Angie was going to be home within three hours and Peggy was running out of options.

After opening up the windows and clearing the smoke out of the kitchen, Peggy rushed to the nearest phone and dialed quickly, letting out a sigh of relief when a voice on the other end greeted her.

“Jarvis residence.”

“Mr. Jarvis, I’m afraid I’m in need of a favour.”

“Trouble with the baking endeavours, Miss Carter?”

Peggy let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Will you assist me or not, Mr. Jarvis?”

“What can I do for you, Miss Carter?”

“I need you to pick up a cake, a pie, _anything_ at this point. Preferably something sweet. I’ve a bit of a mess to clean up here.”

“Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Jarvis. I’ll be greatly indebted to you.”

“I’ll arrive shortly, Miss Carter.”

“Right. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Peggy placed the phone back on the rotary and stepped back into the kitchen. If Angie were to see the mess she had caused in the room, she would faint on sight. It was as if someone set loose one of Howard’s malfunctioning machines and let it wreak havoc; there were bits of uncooked pasta scattered about, broken eggs and shell pieces dripping from the counter tops, burnt pieces of cake crumbled about the stove and floor, dishes stacked in the sink, and Peggy had gotten flour every where. 

“Right then. Best get to it,” Peggy spoke out loud, rolling up her sleeves.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

It had taken Jarvis an hour to arrive with a cake in hand and Peggy hadn't even cleaned a quarter of the kitchen, let alone the whole thing. Even Peggy Carter couldn’t hide the utter embarrassment of her overall failed attempts at cooking. Before she could convince him to stay and help her clean, Jarvis noted that it was nearing seven and he’d need to make it home in time for sherry.

It took another hour before Peggy had given up hope for the kitchen and the remaining hour she had left to clean herself up and look presentable and set up the cake in the dining room. Peggy was exhausted, more so than she would be after a mission, but she held her chin up and smiled as soon as she heard Angie step through the door.

“Peg, I’m home!” Angie’s voice easily carried and Peggy could hear Angie yelling from the front door.

“In the dining room,” Peggy called back. Her voice wasn't nearly as loud, but the tortuous singing lessons from Angie taught her how to project.

“It’s half past nine, what’re you doin’ in the dining room?” Angie questioned, eventually finding her way to the room where Peggy had been patiently waiting with the cake. “Aw, geeze, Peg.”

“Happy birthday.” Peggy smiled, standing as soon as Angie walked in. “It’s vanilla,” she mentioned, gesturing to the cake.

“You didn't have to do that for me,” Angie weakly protested as she took a seat beside to Peggy.

“Of course I did.”

“You baked this all on your own, huh?”

“Truthfully?” While the merits of Peggy’s abilities in the kitchen had never previously come up, Angie had her suspicions that Peggy didn't know a lick about cooking. After all, apart from the company of course, why else would Peggy eat out so often? “It went rather poorly,” Peggy admitted, sliding Angie a piece of cake.

“I had to recruit Mr. Jarvis to fetch a cake before you got home.”

“I’m sure Mr. Fancy was thrilled.” Angie laughed behind the cake and fork she’d stuck in her mouth.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

With the conversation winding down and nearly half of the cake gone, Angie stood and took the empty plates into her hands.

“Oh, please, do let me,” Peggy motioned to take the plates from Angie, who quickly swatted at Peggy’s hands.

“No way, English. You got me a cake. I can handle a few plates.”

“Very well then,” Peggy huffed, putting the box back over the cake.

“Hey, Peg?”

“Hm?”

When Peggy looked up from her chair, Angie pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She lingered there; close enough for Peggy to still feel Angie’s breath on her lips. “Thanks for remembering.”

A lopsided smile spread across Peggy’s face. “You’re welcome, darling.”

With a happily dazed look on her face, she watched Angie’s figure retreat into the kitchen. The kitchen that held to secrets of her cooking mishaps. The kitchen that was still in shambles.

“Peggy Carter, what did you do to our kitchen‽”


End file.
